


depths of despair

by bubbasbee



Category: Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF ), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Karlnapity, Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Multi, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Trauma, Triggers, Unintentional Self Harm, Winged Alexis | Quackity, angst angst angst, cursing, i have no idea where this fic is going but you should read it anyway, i’m sorry i love them so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29823528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbasbee/pseuds/bubbasbee
Summary: quackity struggles with self hatred while his fiancées try to help, but have no idea how to.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Implied Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, implied Alexis | Quackity/Schlatt
Comments: 10
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first ever fic posted on ao3 ( i bet you can tell by the tags that i’m an ex-wattpader, please forgive me ) and this is the first proper piece i’ve written in over two years, so i’m a little rusty, sorry about that. 
> 
> anyway, when i hear karlnapity half my heart goes fluff and the other half goes angst. obviously you can tell which one won the battle this time.
> 
> hope you like it, updates will happen whenever i finish a chapter and/or i feel motivated.
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> tw: abuse, past abuse, relationship trauma, nightmares, unintentional self harm, self hatred, guilt, if there’s anything i missed, please let me know! stay safe

the water was dark, so dark, for a moment he thought he had lost his vision, but no, that wasn’t it. he could see bubbles rising up towards the far away surface, could see the ghostly white of his too thin fingers when he brought his hand up in front of his face. he was deep, deep underwater, so far under the surface that he could swim for a million years without ever seeing the stars. how he knew this, the boy did not know. sometimes, there are things you just know, things that are so innately buried into your soul, that forgetting them would be impossible. he knew that there was no point in trying to reach the surface, just as he knew that somewhere, someone had loved him. he just knew, somehow. 

he didn’t need to blink. that was the next thing he noticed about his situation. nor breathe. he didn’t need to breathe or blink. the pressure of the water this deep should have caved in his chest by now, but it had not. 

suddenly he became aware of the deafening silence. it was oppressive, smothering, it suffocated him until he felt as though it would kill him, and then all of a sudden, it broke, the shattering of a glass, a wall of glass that had been in front of him the whole time. it caved in on itself, and he found himself being swept away as water rushed forward, a dam breaking, spilling over glass which cut him and caused him to bleed, before depositing him onto a soaking red carpet. 

now on his knees, he looked up slowly, a sense of foreboding causing him to tense up, and tuck his wings in closer to his body, seeking some comfort from the reminder that he could fly away. above him towered a figure. he carried an impossibly large bottle of alcohol in one hand, which he rested against his thigh as he leaned forward, leering at the boy on the ground, who suddenly felt minuscule in the presence of such a giant. the giant laughed, his joy sharp as an icicle and just as cold. “you thought i wouldn’t notice?” the monster — for he was one, with horns curling around his ears, and bloodshot eyes that had seen many horrors, and revelled in each and every one — crooned, setting his bottle down on a table that had not been there moments before. the goat man straightened his tie, before running a hand through his slicked back hair. “quackity, quackity, quackity.” he clicked his tongue, “is this what you think a vice president does? runs around with his friends all day, having fun while i get to spends hours working on things that actually matter? you think you get to slack off while i spend all my time, while i put all my effort, into rebuilding this country the way it was meant to be?”

quackity shook his head, “no, schlatt, please.” tears pricked his eyes, as he found himself reciting a script, as though they’d done this before. schlatt leaned down further, reaching for his bottle once again, beaming with a mouth full of pearly white teeth. “you’re right. you don’t get to do that, mr vice president.” he said, looking up. quackity’s eyes followed his husband’s, up to the fingers wrapped around a bottle. “please...” he sobbed, desperation cracking his voice, “schlatt...” the man just smiled wider, “i only do it because i love you, baby. remember that.” and with that, he brought the bottle down on quackity’s head, a crack splitting the room, and quackity found himself tumbling, tumbling down, into a crowded caravan, filled to the brim with scarred fighters and broken warriors.

in the middle, at the centre of everything, there he was again. the man who he loved. the man who loved him. for surely, the feeling that was still nagging at him in the back of his head, the instinctive knowledge that somewhere, someone had loved him, that meant him. schlatt. schlatt was the one who loved him, of course. it made sense. it all made sense. quackity’s mouth grew into a smile, his eyes lighting up as he got to gaze upon his husband. schlatt’s eyes met his, and quackity almost fell back by the look of disgust upon that beautiful, beautiful face of harsh lines and harsher memories. the way schlatt looked at him, that wasn’t love, that was pure revulsion, hatred so strong it left quackity reeling, sick to his stomach, knowing that someone he loved so much could despise him so. those eyes...the hate in those eyes made him want to cry, but he couldn’t look away, not as his love opened his mouth to speak.

“in my time of need, everybody left. you left.” 

he addresses everyone, but as he looks at his husband, it’s clear what he means. it was all quackity’s fault, as schlatt drunk from that bottle, as tommy held a bow to his forehead, and as the president keeled over, coughing violently, it was clear that this was all quackity’s fault.

as schlatt died on that caravan’s floor, quackity fell with him, wings flaring, the force of his suppressed sobs racking his body and leaving it raw, knowing that, in the end, he was at fault for all of this.

the water came back now, the inky blackness and the deafening silence, except this time, he could not breathe, the water filled his lungs, the pressure building up atop his chest, he felt himself slowly sinking, his heavy wings dragging him down, and as he went down, he felt hands reaching for him, legs brushing his own, and finding the strength to turn his head, for his fear was running rampant heartbeats around his chest right now, quackity saw bodies, thousands of them, surrounding him, familiar horns and brown hair, the doe ears, and his blood red tie. it wasn’t just the water drowning him, but the bodies too. everything went black as a body blocked what little light could reach him down here, and as the bodies piled on top of him, quackity struggled to breathe, gasping and choking, limbs flailing, gurgles floating from his mouth instead of the terrified screams he wished he could make, as he felt strong hands grip his ankles tightly, and drag him down, down down, and...

quackity woke up retching, dry heaving as he jerked up into a sitting position and clawed at his throat, coughing and spluttering, still stuck underwater, unable to breathe as his heart pounded a mile a minute and the room spun. he felt a movement beside him, a few confused groans following the motion, before quackity felt large, warm hands gently grasping his wrists, and pulling them back, away from the skin of his exposed neck, which was covered entirely in thousands of little red lines, like tally marks on the walls of a prison cell, counting the days of an endless sentence, unable to escape, just as quackity was unable to escape this drowning sensation. 

he thrashed against their hold, wings bristling, goosebumps appearing on his skin. he needed to grasp at his throat, needed to free himself from the water that clogged his lungs. a shadow crossed in front of him, and he cried out, his dry heaving dissolving into pants of terror. a small click resounded through the room, and quackity froze like a deer in headlights, waiting for the bang, the boom, the explosion, the gunshot, whatever that click had preceded, but nothing came. a soft light from the hallway shone onto the thick white quilt, some of it blocked out by the figure of a tall, slim boy, who slowly stepped back into the room, and crawled onto the bed to sit beside quackity. he reached out and pressed a hand to quackity’s forehead.

the panicked boy stilled, his breathing slowing down as he quit his thrashing, hands going limp in sapnap’s, wings dropping on the bed. the bigger boy studied quackity’s face for a moment longer, before easing his grip on his wrists. he stayed alert, muscles tense and ready to restrain quackity if the trembling boy attempted to harm himself once more.

“quackity...” karl let his hand fall from his fiancée’s forehead to caress his cheek. “what happened? what’s the matter?” quackity averted his eyes, fixing them instead on sapnap’s hands, just so he wouldn’t have to see the earnest pain that shone in karl’s green eyes. the pain that he’d caused. it was all his fault. all of it, everything from schlatt’s death to his fiancées having to wake up every single night to calm him down, just because quackity couldn’t get a fucking grip. it wasn’t like it was hard, they were just nightmares. he should be able to handle them without nearly clawing himself to death.

quackity shook karl’s hand off him, and pulled away from sapnap, who was growing more concern by the second. “nothing.” he said, voice flat as he shoved past karl, crawling off their bed and took quick, frantic steps into the bathroom, where he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, before sliding down to the ground in utter defeat, shuddering as his wings came to rest on the cool tile floor.

quackity could hear his two lovers conversing back in the bedroom, making an effort to keep their voices low as they talked about him, and failing miserably. but lucky for them, quackity didn’t care what they had to say.

he leaned forward, collapsing into his hands, and choked back sobs. why was he crying? why was he fucking crying? he wasn't the one in pain, he didn't deserve to feel pain, he wasn't allowed to feel pain, because he'd been the one causing it. causing schlatt's pain, sapnap's pain, karl's pain. it was all because of him, he had no right to cry about it. he didn't deserve that luxury. with a strangled hiccup, quackity wiped at his eyes and slowly got up, legs shaking underneath as he walked over to the vanity, slowly becoming aware of the intense stinging around his neck as he looked in the mirror. it was a sad sight. he looked pathetic, really, his lopsided beanie covering up black hair matted with sweat that dripped down to shine on his forehead, a pale sheen coating his face, which was drained of all colour. his eyes were surrounded by dark circles so large, they were pools of inky blackness, just like in his dream. his cheeks were sunken and hollow, his wings tucked tightly to his sides, always on the defensive, and he looked drained, empty, the result of many sleepless nights and long days, spent blaming himself for every little hurt someone had suffered. no wonder his lovers had looked at him with such pity, he looked disgusting. a bit of drool had dried on the corner of his mouth, and quackity wiped it away with a sound of disgust. he was deserving of that pity. he was fucking pathetic, as he took in the red scratches all over his neck, the skin burning and raw. he reached for the washcloth he'd left in the sink before going to bed last night, and wet it under the tap, before pressing it against the burning hot skin of his neck and letting out a little sigh of relief as it eased his pain, just enough for the tenseness in his shoulders to begin to fade. 

it returned a moment later however, when a tentative knock on the bathroom door broke his momentary bubble of contentment, and made him jump, nearly knocking over the bottle of handsoap, as he turned quickly, worried they'd try to come in. they didn't. sometimes, quackity forgot that even the little things, these tiny expectations that he had of people, had all been a result of being married to schlatt. it wasn't entirely schlatt's fault, of course. his fiancee's were always adamant about the fact that schlatt... schlatt had been a bastard, and quackity deserved better. they always told him it wasn't his fault, none of what schlatt had done to him had been his fault, but he saw those shallow words for what they really were. lies. well-intentioned, but lies nonetheless. everything schlatt had done to him, he did it for quackity's sake, that's what he had always said. 'this is for you, baby, remember that'. and he did. he did remember that, he never let himself forget it. that, in the end, all this trauma, all this terror and guilt he carried within him, was his own doing. his own fault.

"Q? are you okay? can we come in?" came from the other side of the door. he could tell just by the way he spoke, slow and hesitant, that sapnap was restraining himself, fighting the urge to rush into the bathroom and sweep his love into his arms, and kiss away all of quackity's demons. quackity supposed he should have been grateful for it, the fact that someone cared that much for him, but instead, a fresh wave of guilt crashed over him. he couldn't do this to his fiancees, he was just hurting them more by shutting himself away in the bathroom like this. he set the washcloth back down in the sink, and took one last glance in the mirror - he was a fucking mess, but at least he looked a tiny bit better now -, before going to open the bathroom door.

his two fiancees were standing in the doorway, hovering in it like two puppy dogs. quackity could practically see their tails wagging as they both fixed their eyes, wide with concern, upon him. they were adorable, he had to admit, but the way they were staring at him like that, the pity and worry and pain coating their faces like they were canvases, and he was the painter, made him feel ten times worse. sometimes, he wondered if it wasn't worse, being engaged to these two amazing, wonderful, gorgeous men, who loved him so much, than it had been being married to schlatt. because at least with schlatt, quackity had somewhere to direct all his anger, but here, with these two perfect boys, who had never even raised a hand against him, quackity had no choice but to turn all his festering hatred inwards. he didn't have anyone to resent other than himself now. at least when schlatt was alive, he could hate him, but how can you hate a dead man? the dead weren't there to defend themselves, and so it was impossible to hate someone already buried six feet under. perhaps if schlatt was still alive, quackity wouldn't be like this. then again, if he was alive, he wouldn't have stayed alive for long, not with karl and sapnap around.

"hey guys..." quackity trailed off, a bit of colour returning to his cheeks as he flushed, hating looking this weak and broken in front of anyone. he looked past his fiancees, eyes on their bed. it looked really comfortable and warm, and he knew it would be twice as comforting when he was sandwiched between karl and sapnap. it suddenly hit quackity how tired he was, how fatigued. his very bones ached. he was so weary, and looking up at the other two, he could see that they were just as tired, if not more. quackity didn’t know it, but sapnap had taken to keeping silent vigils, staying up, just in case another dream jolted quackity from his blissful sleep, that way, when he woke up in his panic, he wouldn’t be all alone. 

karl was the first to break the uneasy silence that had settled over them, like a blanket just a bit too itchy, a bit too warm. “quackity, what was the nightmare this time?” he finally asked, looking as though he’d been debating whether to bring it up for a while now, before instantly regretting it.

quackity pressed a palm to his forehead, “i don’t want to talk about it right now, mis amores. sleep first, please.” his voice was resigned, the sentences made more with sighs than they were with words.

karl and sapnap exchanged glances. they seemed to be doing that a lot lately, silently communicating, while quackity just stood there, completely cut out from whatever little telepathy game they were playing with each other. after a long moment, the two turned their tired eyes back to quackity. "yeah, sure, of course, babe. whatever you need." karl nodded, in agreement with sapnap. they always were, weren't they? in agreement with each other, that was. quackity's frown deepened, and he pushed his way past his fiancees - it wasn't his fault if they couldn't move out of the doorway fast enough - falling back into the comfort of fluffy blankets and plush sheets, stretching his wings out as he yawned. quackity felt his lovers fall into place beside him, and closed his eyes, rolling over to curl up into sapnap's chest, his legs tucking underneath him as an arm encircled him, karl's breath warm on quackity's neck. quackity couldn't help the languid smile that blossomed on his face as he closed his eye. right here, this moment, sandwiched between the two people he adored most in the world, no matter how shaken up he was, this was home. always.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which dadschlatt is canon, and quackity doesn’t understand how to handle kindness, so he lashes out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! me again, hi. this might seem a little rushed, i gave myself the goal of writing around 3,000 words today, with the hope of keeping the chapters similar lengths and i did it! ( but at what cost ). i’ve been extremely sick since yesterday so my sincerest apologies if the quality has gone down since last chapter. i’m not very good at writing fluff, but i did my best to include some for yall, hope you enjoy!
> 
> nothing in this fanfiction is intended to romanticise or portray abusive relationships ( in this case, quackity/schlatt ) in positive light. i, myself have been through the same situation quackity went through in his past relationship, and i would never want to make anyone believe that shit like that is okay. if you feel as though i’m romanticising it, please let me know, because that is the farthest thing from my intentions with this story.  
> tw: none, stay safe!

quackity stirred, sunlight washing over his face as he tugged on the blanket in his hands. he cracked open his good eye - his other still worked, but it hadn't been the same since...well, it was a long story, but the long scar running down the right side of his face forced him to tell it more often than he would have liked - and saw through the curtains that it was no longer three in the morning. as he groaned and stretched his arms, quackity estimated that it was around nine or so. his fiancees were no longer in bed, so it couldn't be that early, they slept in as much as they could, especially these days, when none of them were getting much rest at all. 

rolling out of the empty bed, he breathed in the smell of syrup and butter. a small smile grew on his face, and he followed the homely smells to their small kitchen, where he found his loves, one flipping pancakes while the other stood behind him, arms wrapped around the cook’s waist.

“sapnap, i’m trying to cook.” karl complained, scraping the spatula against the pan as he attempted to flip the pancake, but failed, his movements restricted by the tight hug sapnap had him entrapped in. “but karl,” sapnap pouted, resting his chin on karl’s shoulder. “you’re so warm, and cute, and snuggly.” karl just laughed and shook his head. “oh, you big baby.” he shook his head once more, and reaching up with his free hand, pat sapnap on the head, as if he were a dog. which wasn’t too far from the truth.

silently, quackity slid into one of the stools by the countertop and observed his fiancees. in the soft light of morning, when presented with this simple show of domestic bliss, quackity's nightmares seemed insignificant. nothing was going to hurt him here, not when they were all together, so happy. he hummed a little, chest filling with warmth as he realised just how lucky he was, to be able to be with the people he loved. not everyone was so lucky.

sapnap must have heard him, for he let go of karl and turned to face his other, shorter fiancee. "mornin' darling. you doin' alright?" he questioned, concern washing over his features. quackity let out a little sigh as the spell was broken, and nodded. "yeah, i'm fine." and it wasn't a lie. he was fine. right now, no thoughts of schlatt plagued him. he had been stupid to be so panicked by his dreams last night. they were so insignificant, so irrelevant. schlatt was dead, long gone, he couldn't lay a hand on quackity ever again. and yet, quackity still let the man torture him, he still let schlatt win, every time, because he was a coward, scared of the dark and the nightmares it brought.

but it wasn't dark out, it was day, the harsh sunlight shone through their windows, bathing the small kitchen in light, and he was fine. he was safe. 

"so, what's the plan for today?" he said, propping his elbows up on the granite countertop and resting his head on his hands, attempting to inject some liveliness into his words, so that karl and sapnap would actually believe he meant it when he said he was fine. karl was first to respond, using the spatula to slide pancakes onto three waiting plates. "not much. i figured we could just continue the work on kinoko kingdom for most of the day. oh, and tubbo has some supplies i need for the library, so when we have time, we can go and pick them up. i'm going to need help carrying everything. plus, i want to ask tubbo some questions about running a country, since he's the only one who really has any experience with that kind of stuff." 

quackity had been a vice president, once.

karl kept talking, not noticing the shadow that passed over the winged boy's face. sapnap did, though, and he quickly jumped in, "unless you had anything else planned?" both of his fiancees were like that, so oblivious sometimes. each in different ways. when karl was speaking, his mouth tended to run in front of his thoughts, and he often didn't realise the implications of the things he said until it was too late, if ever. sapnap, on the other hand, tended to misinterpret the things other people said. he was better with physical cues, focusing more on the way someone stood, or the minuscule changes of their features, rather than the actual words they had spoken. and quackity, well, quackity had a tendency to take jokes too far, not realising when he was making people uncomfortable until they directly told him. he supposed, if he had wanted to, he could blame this trait on schlatt, and all that he'd gone through when he was with the goat man, but he wouldn't. some things were just a part of his nature, and this was one of them.

"no." quackity's bangs fell over his bad eye as he shook his head, obscuring the top of the angry scar that ran from the bottom of his eyebrow to the very corner of his mouth. when the scar was still fresh, he hadn't been able to kiss, or be kissed by, his fiancees until it had healed. at least, not on the lips. quackity brushed his hair off his face, "when do i ever have anything to do?" he laughed at himself, "now, are we going to eat these pancakes or not?" 

that afternoon, the couple travelled down the prime path to visit tubbo, who'd offered to meet them by the crater where l'manberg had once stood. 

quackity hadn't seen tubbo for a great while. he'd had no reason to, after what had happened with the butcher army and the ending of l'manberg, they'd had no reason for interaction. until now.

the small boy stood with his back to the group, blonde hair and horns covered by a brown hood, hands tucked into the sides of an attached jacket. he didn't hear them approaching, or maybe he just didn't feel bothered enough to turn around. he stared down at the gaping hole in the ground, face blank. someone had gone through all the trouble of encasing the monument — could it be called that? monuments were something you built. this...this was something that had been destroyed — in glass, but quackity doubted it really mattered. with all those vines from the egg growing in the pit, no one was about to go down there any time soon. l'manberg would remain as it was, frozen in time, until it disappeared under the blood vines forever. quackity wouldn't be sad to see it go.

"tubbo!” karl called, bounding forward, and releasing quackity's hand from his grip as the brown-haired boy approached tubbo ahead of the other two. the young ex-president turned around, a worn smile appearing on his face. it seemed like quackity and his fiancees weren't the only ones exhausted these days. "hey, guys." the boy said brightly, stretching the scars that peppered his skin as he spoke. he had a million little ones everywhere, quackity knew. most people around here had their fair share of scars. but for tubbo, the main attraction was the large flower-shaped scar that blossomed on the left side of his face. there were more, similar shaped scars all over tubbo's body, unseeable under the large winter coat tubbo donned, but quackity knew they were there. he knew where tubbo had gotten them too. at the red festival, what seemed like a million years ago, back when schlatt was still president, and quackity was still vice president, and they were still married, and tubbo was still quackity's step-son.

they had a complicated history, and an even more complicated dynamic. they'd gone from opponents to parent and child, to betrayer and betrayed, to superior and inferior, to enemies once more, to... well, quackity didn't know where they stood anymore, all he knew was that there was a tentative peace between them for the time being. and as long as it had been since he'd last seen the lost little boy, as long as it had been since tubbo's father, quackity's husband, had died, quackity still viewed tubbo as his son.

a son he'd failed, many times over. but still, his son. and seeing him now, brought back so many memories, most bad. there were good ones too, though. nestled in there, diamonds amidst the dirt. his wedding day, realising that he'd not only gained a husband, but a son too. a son he'd promised to watch over like a good dad should. decorating for the festival with tubbo, hanging the banners and passing out invitations with the boy, building the platform that tubbo's public execution would soon take place on. planning builds for a new l'manburg that wouldn't last. huddled together in a room, discussing what to do about techno. turns out, there had been nothing they could do about the blade after all. 

quackity stayed silent as karl, sapnap and tubbo worked out the details, gesturing as they figured out what they needed and how they could get it to the kingdom before dark fell. his wings twitched while he watched them. he loved studying his fiancees as they spoke, finding them even more beautiful with their eyes alight, smiles spread across their lips while they talked about things they were passionate about, things they loved. but for once, quackity found himself watching tubbo instead, taking in the boy. he seemed different from last time, less fidgety, more certain in himself. he held his head higher, made eye contact, kept his feet planted in the ground. he seemed so much braver. quackity wondered what had happened, to make tubbo this much more confident now than he had been when he was president of an entire country. 

tubbo waved his hands in the air, probably talking about some building supply or the other, and that's when quackity spotted it. it glinted gold in the sunlight, a little band on tubbo's ring finger. it was plain and small, something quackity wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been paying attention. "what's that?" quackity said abrubtly, not caring about interrupting the trio as they chatted.

they all paused, surprised that the short boy had spoken up. his fiancees had taken note of quackity's uncharacteristic silence, but wouldn't pry him for answers until they got home. most likely, they had just put it down to last night's dreams being especially bad, or something like that. sometimes, they could be extremely oblivious. they'd never been too great at connecting the dots, but quackity loved them anyway.

"what's what?" tubbo asked, his head tilting slightly at the question. even after everything he'd been through, tubbo still managed to maintain that boyish innocence that made tubbo so...tubbo.

"that." quackity repeated, pointing to the ring on tubbo's hand. he kept his answer short, not sure what he'd say if he gave his words free rein. he wasn't sure if he had even anything to say, or if he'd even be able to say them. "oh," quackity didn't miss how tubbo's smile became about ten times brighter, "that's my ring. i got married! platonically, of course."

quackity was completely and utterly floored. what? what? he did his best to process the information while he responded. "you got married to tommy?" tubbo and tommy was the only conceivable platonic pairing, and even that seemed a little farfetched to him. quackity couldn't imagine tommy agreeing to a marriage, especially not one with tubbo.

to his surprise, tubbo laughed. "nope, not tommy. ranboo." the british boy corrected, and quackity realised just how little he knew his former step-son. "ranboo." he repeated, wings bristling at the name. quackity hadn't had really talked with ranboo, not since the tall part-endermen had betrayed them. how tubbo ended up with him, quackity didn't know. but it probably wouldn't be a good idea to bring all that up right now. arguments would only ensue. "you guys...did you guys have a wedding?" tubbo nodded, "yeah, a small one." he replied brightly. "oh, gotcha. worried that someone was going to object and try to elope with your husband to be? because i'm pretty sure george hasn't been around here in a while." it was a bland joke, not up to quackity's usual standards, but he appreciated the fact that his fiancees laughed. 

turning from tubbo, he forced a smile for sapnap and karl. "you get what you needed?" he asked, desperate to get out of the situation all of a sudden. luckily, his fiancées picked the perfect time to stop being dense, and karl nodded. “yep, we’re all done here!” sapnap waved at tubbo, and took one of quackity’s hands in his own, the other reaching out for karl. “bye tubbo, see you soon! thanks a lot!”

it didn’t escape quackity’s notice that none of them were carrying anything. he wondered if karl had lied about needing help carrying the supplies because he hadn’t wanted to go alone. if that was the case, the older boy could have just asked. 

walking back home to kinoko kingdom, quackity was well aware he wouldn’t be able to escape the prying questions that just waited to spill from his fiancées lips. he was in no hurry to answer them, so he let his lovers approach the subject first. it didn’t take very long, their concern and curiosity becoming evident almost immediately after they left tubbo.

“what was that, big Q?” sapnap asked, never one to beat around the bush. quackity took a moment before responding, weighing his options. “what do you mean?” he finally settled on asking, pretending sapnap’s concern was absurd.

“you know what i mean.” sapnap’s voice became weary. they’d done this dance before, and he was tired. tired of quackity, tired of all his problems and all the baggage that came with him. quackity was too much for them, he knew it. they deserved better than him. they deserved each other. they had been happy before, hadn’t they, without quackity? they had definitely seemed happier, before quackity had been thrown into the mix. he’d ruined them.

but they’d asked him. they’d proposed to him, he did his best to remind himself. he was very aware that his mind spiralled often, jumping from illogical conclusion to illogical conclusion at a mile a minute, and at night, it was harder to stop the thoughts as they flooded his tired brain, too exhausted to fight back. but in the light of day, surrounded by the two people he loved most in the world, it was a little easier. only a little.

“we just want to know what’s going on, baby.” karl picked up the line of questioning now, treading more carefully than sapnap had, “we’re worried about you. you know you can trust us right? we’re here for you.”

quackity shouldn’t have said it. he knew he should have. but he did anyway, because he was a self destructive piece of shit, and relished hurting people more than he did helping them. “like you’re ever around? you say i can talk to you, but you’re never fucking home. and then you come back all tired and dazed and you never want to fucking talk about it, you won’t tell us anything unless it’s fucking lies, and you think you have the right to tell me to talk to you? that’s bullshit, and you know it.”

karl stood there for a moment, gaping. he hadn’t expected the outburst, and quackity immediately felt guilty. wings drooping, he was about to apologise when karl spoke again. “you’re lashing out right now. baby, it’s okay to need us, it’s okay to talk to us. we’ll listen. we’re not going to hurt you, or hate you. we know who you are, quackity, and we love you. nothing you tell us is going to change that.”

it was the way karl calmed himself down, the genuineness in his voice, the earnestness of his eyes, how hard he tried to understand. he cared so much, he was so gentle, and sweet, and quackity couldn’t stand it.

“you know what, karl? fuck you.” why was he saying that? why were these words coming out of his mouth? he didn’t want to say these things, they weren’t true, he didn’t mean them, he wanted them to stop, but once they started, he couldn’t control them. “you don’t love us, you never did. we hear you at night, me and sapnap,” at this, sapnap opened his mouth to speak, knowing where quackity was heading with his tirade, but was cut off as quackity continued. it was as though quackity wasn’t even in his body, just watching as these hateful words spewed out of his mouth, as thoughts that had been simmering in a stew of resentment for months were finally brought to the surface. “always calling out for james or cleetus or mason or drew or whoever the fuck you’re banging instead of being home with us, your fucking fiancées.” tears began to form in karl’s beautiful green eyes, but they only egged quackity on more, “if you want us to fucking talk, to fucking open up like one big happy fucking family, why don’t you start? tell us who they fucking are, karl. why aren’t we enough? what aren’t we giving you? why aren’t we fucking good enough for you, karl?” he spat, heart pounding in his chest, taking in the horrified way karl’s mouth hung open, the way his brows furrowed, the corners of his lips drooped, the way he resembled a kicked puppy. he found a sick satisfaction in how wounded karl appeared. they’d hate him now. he’d done it now. quackity had finally found their breaking point. they’d have to get angry with him now, there was no way around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a reminder that i do not, in any way, ship the content creators, only their characters, and if any of them ever state that they’re uncomfortable with fics such as these, this will be taken down right away, and i’ll respect their boundaries.
> 
> —  
> here is just me rambling about my thoughts on my own chapter lmao
> 
> i hope you liked the tubbo and quackity interaction. dadschlatt is one of my favourite headcanons, however i feel like a big part of it that’s often overlooked is that quackity was tubbo’s step-dad, and i thought that dynamic would be interesting to explore.
> 
> i’m also exploring quackity’s character a bit ( and totally not self projecting ), because i keep reading these fics where quackity just breaks down and opens up to karl and sapnap immediately, and maybe that’s the way some people see quackity’s character ( and don’t get me wrong, i adore these fics ) but in my head, he wouldn’t do something like that. he seems like a very defensive character to me, he uses comedy as a defence ( unfortunately for me, i’m not a very funny person so i had a lot of trouble with coming up with the few jokes scattered in here ) and when that defence is gone, he turns his fear to anger and lashes out, trying to make the people who love him hate him and leave him, because he’s scared to get hurt again, and because he doesn’t find himself worthy of love. and yeah, that’s my analysis.
> 
> i hope you’re enjoying the angst! kudos and constructive criticism is appreciated ( comments make my day!!! ) and have a good day!

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it so far, stick around for more, i guess? idk i write these mostly for myself so if you enjoy it, continue reading, if you didn’t like it, don’t.
> 
> constructive criticism is extremely appreciated and kudos as well!
> 
> also, have a line from the unrevised version ( i’m lying i don’t even spell check these ) 
> 
> ‘“nothing.” he said, voice as flat as his patty.’


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